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THE QUIET SINGER 



THE QUIET SINGER 

AND OTHER POEMS 



BY 

CHARLES HANSON TOWNE 




NEW YORK 
B. W. DODGE & COMPANY 

1908 



USRARY of CONGRESS 
Two CoDies Received 

NOV t2 1908 

Ccpvrnrht Entry 
^ COPV 3. 



.013 C^^, 



J qe 



? 



Copyright, 1908, by 
B. W. DODGE & COMPANY 



Registered at Stationers' Hall, Lottdon 
{All Rights Resened) 



Printed in the United States of America 



TO MY MOTHER 



^. 



For the privilege of reprinting the poems in- 
cluded in this volume, special acknowledgment is 
due to the editors of The Century, The Smart 
Set, Youth's Companion, Harper's Bazar, The 
Bookman, The Independent, The Cosmopolitan, 
Lippincotfs, Appleton's, Ainslee's, Metropolitan, 
Reader, Everybody's, Broadway, Munsey's, Life, 
and others. 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The Quiet Singer ^ 

Eluded 4 

A Distant Spring 5 

Song 7 

The Silences ^ 

August in the City 9 

The Lover— in April ^^ 

Spring Rapture ^^ 

The Boast ^^ 

Love, the Victor ^^ 

The Footfarer ^^ 

Miracle -"-^ 

A Mother ^^ 

The King ^9 

A Rose Whispers 22 

Awaited • ^^ 

A Ballad of the Nativity 24 

Understanding 20 

The Depth of Love 27 

Unanswered ^^ 

Surrender ^9 

Rain on the Roof 30 

The House of the Heart. 31 

Remote 32 

The Gladness of Spring 33 

A Sunset 34 

Estrangement 35 

Death at Morning 3^ 

Renewal ^7 

[ix] 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

A Man's Prayer 3g 

A Song of City Traffic 40 

Selfishness 43 

Remembrance ^ 

Aere Perennius 45 

The Great and Silent Things 46 

Distances 



47 

Haunted .g 

Villanelle 



50 

I Count the Days ci 

Fulfilment ^2 

Resurrection ^^ 

Till Eulenspiegel -4 

The Poet ^6 

The Flame C7 

In the Meadows of the Sky 58 

The Mosques 59 

The Woman's Way 60 

In the Night 62 

Hope ^- 

Love of Beauty 5, 

The Procession 5q 

Love and Time _ 55 

An Autumn Leaf 57 

One Moment of Doubt 68 

Parting (^ 

The Room ^q 

After Drought 71 

Indian Summej 
At Nightfall 



Indian Summer 72 

73 



QUATRAINS 

Preparation 77 

Certainty 7g 

The Friends 70 

A Winter Dream go 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

September 

The Good Queen ^^ 

Unhappiness ^^ 

Care ^4 

SONNETS 

The Promise ^7 

City Children °° 

After Reading Keats ^9 

How Bravely Now I Face the Marching Days. 90 

A Broken Friendship. 9i 

SONGS OF NEW YORK 

Fifth Avenue at Night 95 

Broadway 9^ 

Downtown 97 

New Buildings 9^ 

The Lights 99 

To a Hurdy-Gurdy 100 

Traffic i^i 

The Voices 102 

Next Door ^^3 

The Parks 104 

A City Sunset ^^S 

SONGS OUT OF THE ORIENT 

A Baghdad Lover 109 

From a Baghdad Window 1 1^ 

A Lover in Damascus 124 

Certain Fragments from the Arabic 130 



[xi 



THE QUIET SINGER 



(Ave! Francis Thompson) 

HE had been singing — but I had not heard his 
voice ; 
He had been weaving lovely dreams of song, 
O many a morning long. 
But I, remote and far, 
Under an aUen star, 
Listened to other singers, other birds. 
And other silver words. 

But does the skylark, singing sweet and clear, 
Beg the cold world to hear ? 
Rather he sings for very rapture of singing. 
At dawn, or in the blue, mild Summer noon, 
Knowing that, late or soon, 

His wealth of beauty, and his high notes, ringing 
Above the earth, will make some heart rejoice. 
He sings, albeit alone, 
Spendthrift of each pure tone. 
Hoarding no single song. 
No cadence wild and strong. 

[I] 



THE QUIET SINGER 

But one day, from a friend far overseas, 
As if upon the breeze. 

There came the teeming wonder of his words — 
A golden troop of birds, 
Caged in a Httle volume made to love; 
Singing, singing, 
Flinging, flinging 

Their breaking hearts on mine, and swiftly bring- 
ing 
Tears, and the peace thereof. 

How the world woke anew ! 

How the days broke anew ! 

Before my tear-blind eyes a tapestry 

I seemed to see, 

Woven of all the dreams dead or to be. 

Hills, hills of song. Springs of eternal bloom, 

Autumns of golden pomp and purple gloom 

Were hung upon his loom. 

Winters of pain, roses with awful thorns, 

Yet wondrous faith in God's dew-drenched 

morns — 
These, all these I saw. 
With that ecstatic awe 
Wherewith one looks into Eternity. 

And then I knew that, though I had not heard 

His voice before, 

His quiet singing, like some quiet bird 

At some one's distant door, 

[2] 



AND OTHER POEMS 

Had made my own more sweet ; had made it more 
Lovely, in one of God's miraculous ways. 
I knew then why the days 

Had seemed more perfect to me when the Spring 
Came with old burgeoning ; 

For somewhere in the world his voice was raised, 
And somewhere in the world his heart was break- 
ing; 
And never a flower but knew it, sweetly taking 
Beauty more high and noble for his sake, 
As a whole wood grows lovelier for the wail 
Of one sad nightingale. 

Yet, if the Springs long past 

Seemed wonderful before I heard his voice, 

I tremble at the beauty I shall see 

In seasons still to be. 

Now that his songs are mine while Life shall last. 

O now for me 

New floods of visions open suddenly. . . . 

Rejoice, my heart! Rejoice 

That you have heard the Quiet Singer's voice ! 



[3] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



ELUDED 

DEEP in the night I heard 
The rain's mysterious word. 
(It was as if an old love spoke, a dead love 
sobbed and stirred.) 

Deep in the night the great voice of the rain 
Called at my window-pane. 

(A voice more sad shall nevermore sing at my 
heart again.) 

deep within the night, the last stars gone, 

1 heard the rain pass on. 

(No lost love stepped within my room — only the 
pallid dawn!) 



[4] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



A DISTANT SPRING 

I WHO love the Spring so well 
Shall be sleeping, some glad day, 
When her hosts come back to dwell 
In their old, familiar way. 

I shall live, alas ! no more 
In some distant April hour, 

When the Spring flings wide her door. 
Calling leaf, and bloom, and flower. 

I shall sleep — but I shall dream 
In my home beneath the ground. 

And my slumbering heart shall teem 
With its visions deep, profound. 

I shall know, ere you will guess 

(Though with life I have no part), 

What new golden loveliness 

Stirs within the old earth's heart. 

I shall hear the first soft sound 
When the Spring is born anew, 

And rejoice, beneath the ground, 
At the bliss to come to you. 
[S] 



THE QUIET SINGER 

And the dreams that I shall dream, 
In that Spring when I am dead, 

May arise until they seem 

Blossoms white and blossoms red ! 



[6] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



SONG 

I SAW the day's white rapture 
Die in the sunset's flame, 
But all her shining beauty 
Lives like a deathless name. 

Our lamps of joy are wasted, 
Gone is Love's hallowed light; 

But you and I remember 
Through every starlit night. 



[7] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



THE SILENCES 

1LEFT the throbbing city's thundering mart 
For the great patience that the hills impart, 
For the white quiet of the steadfast hills (O the 
great hills' deep heart !) 

I left the clamor of the world ; I flew 
Back to the olden peace I one time knew, 
Back to the waiting restfulness, back to the heart 
of you ! 



[8] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



AUGUST IN THE CITY 

THE brooding hours, through the dull after- 
noon. 
Pause, while a torrid sun flames in the sky. 
(O heart of mine, dream of a long, cool dune, 
Where breezes wander by!) 

Hemmed in by granite walls, the very paves 
Grow worn and weary with the ceaseless heat. 

(O heart, dream of a shore where foam-flecked 
waves 
Surge, crash, and wildly beat!) 

The sad hours creep toward the dim light of 
dusk — 

Ah ! how each laggard moment slowly goes ! 
(O heart, dream of a garden filled with musk 

And the sweet scent of rose !) 

The sun goes down at last, and lo ! a breeze 
Pours through the mighty cavern of the streets. 

(O sleeping heart, dream of unsheltered seas 
Where the glad, fresh rain beats!) 



[9] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



THE LOVER— IN APRIL 

THOU hast come back to me ! 
(Thou who didst die a year ago, 
And slept so many days beneath the snow) 
Thou hast come back to me ! 
Now that the buds break on the hawthorn-tree, 
And the old gladness of the earth revives. 
Thou hast come back to me 
In the dear hyacinth and vv^hite anemone. 

The Spring's great resurrection is thine own ! 

This fragrance of young blossoms is thy breath ; 

This silence is thy spiritual tread — 

Thou art no longer dead ! 

Who is it, dear, that saith 

Thy body is in the bondage of strong Death? 

Nay, from the darkness, on the light winds blown, 

Thou hast come back to me 

In the dear hyacinth and white anemone ! 



[10] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



SPRING RAPTURE 

ONCE more the Spring's exultant joy 
And flowery dream have come to pass ; 
Once more the birth of hawthorn white. 
The green revival of the grass. 

Again the pageant of the leaves. 

The fragrance of the cherry-boughs; 

Again the April glamour comes, 

Again the young Spring's wild carouse ! 

O heart of mine, once more for you 

The world awakes with bloom and song ; 

Hushed are the voices of old Grief, 
And vanished is the face of Wrong. 

The April paean rings again, 

Spring's flowery dream has come to pass, 
And who shall weep when Love has given 

The green revival of the grass ? 



[II] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



THE BOAST 

I DO' not need you now ! Thus do I end 
Our days together, O beloved friend ; 
Thus do I shake all remnants of the past 
Out of my life ; and thus I say at last, 
'T do not need you now !" 

I do not need you now ! Our love is done, 
And in this hour of parting, one by one 
I watch the years we spent together fade 
Into the cold oblivion I have made. 
I do not need you now I 

I do not need you now ! The faith is gone 
That made our love, from dawn to silver dawn, 
A thing most wonderful. Bravely I cry 
(Exulting in the shame of my deep lie!), 
"I do not need vou now !" 



[12] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



LOVE, THE VICTOR 

TIME was, O Love, when I a vassal knelt, 
Obedient, at the footstool of thy throne ; 
When all my life was thine — yea, every thought 
Thy very own. 

Yet, when I hungered most, and prayed that thou 
Wouldst give to me some Httle that I gave. 

Thou didst but mock me, knowing what I was — 
Thy willing slave. 

Yet, though fast bound in shackle and in chain. 
Pride rose in me, and thou wert cast aside ; 

And long I blessed the day when thou from me 
Wentst forth and died. 

How long ago it was I broke my thrall ! 

How long since I have kept apart from thee, 
Vowing that nevermore my heart should know 

Thy tyranny! 

And yet to-day I felt the old desire, 

After long years of freedom from thy reign; 
And I have dreamed, full many a night, of Love's 

Exquisite pain. 

[13] 



THE QUIET SINGER 

No strength of mine can hold thee back, O Love ! 

I thought that I was safe beyond thy will ; 
But after long, long years, lo ! here am I, 

Obedient still ! 



[14] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



THE FOOTFARER 

NOW that Spring is in the land, 
Now that April wakes the wood, 
I would take my scrip in hand, 
Roving with old Solitude. 

I would leave the haunts of men, 
All the rabble of the mart ; 

I would be a child again, 

Close upon my Mother's heart. 

Being kin to every star 

In the marvellous Spring nights, 
I would journey forth afar, 

Drinking in long-lost delights. 

For the world was made for me, 
I who love her music so; 

I was meant for Arcady, 

Where the April tides sing low. 

I would lie upon the breast 
Of my Mother all day long — 

She who eases my unrest 
With her musical low song. 
[15] 



THE QUIET SINGER 

She it is who calls me forth 

When the Springtide winds begin, 

That, in faring south or north, 
I can cease to think of sin ; 

Yea, and even when the rain 
Of- sweet April falls on me, 

I can hear a loved refrain 
In the welcome minstrelsy; 

Glad because I am without. 
Following my vagrant will, 

Putting all my cares to rout 
When I feel the first new thrill. 

Mother! I would forth with you, 

I would take your outstretched hand ; 

Let us fare amid the dew. 

Now that Spring is in the land. 



[i6] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



MIRACLE 

THAT in your absence I can feel this thrill 
Pulsing my inmost soul ; that I can know- 
Such wonder and such ecstasy, until 
I marvel at the heights whereto I go, 

Deem it not strange, beloved ; every hour 

Is white with consecration pure and true ; 
Then, wherefore wakes my heart like some glad 
flower ? 
O hush, and hark! There came a thought of 
you! 



[17] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



A MOTHER 

IT rained all day the day she died, 
And yet she thought it sweet and fair; 
She said the sunlight kissed her hair, 
And then she slept, all satisfied. 

It rained all day ; she woke again. 
And whispered that the sky vv^as blue. 
Ah me ! thank God she never knew 

How cold and dreary fell the rain. 

So like her life ! It rained all day, 

And yet she thought it all was bright ; 
She loved and toiled through day and night- 
She never thought the skies were gray. 



[i8] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



THE KING 

I AM the king of a zvide domain, and you deem 
it a zvonderful thing; 
But the kingly height is a terrible height — God 
pity the lonely king! 

Heed this, O you who envy me my purple, and 

pomp, and clan; 
Thank Him who made you, and made us all, that 

He made you a Common Man ! 

What of the pride and the glory of name, the 

absolute wealth of the land, 
When what I need and crave the most is the 

clasp of a comrade's hand? 

But king am I of a vast domain, and crowned by 

a foolish fate, 
While a foolish world bows down to me and dares 

to call me great. 

My ships fare forth to the open sea, my mariners 

speed afar, 
Where the sweet adventure, the risk, and the loss, 

and the wonderful conflict are. 

[19] 



THE QUIET SINGER 

My soldiers fly to the far-off hills at the sound of 

the cannon's call^ 
But the helpless king, and the lonely king, he 

bides in his palace hall. 

O for a glimpse of the wide, great world, and a 
taste of the life that is true — 

A taste of the life that is yours, and yours ! O for 
the larger view ! 

To march, uncrowned, with the eager throng that 

moves on the white highway. 
To know their mirth, their tears, their loves, the 

hopes of their golden day ; 

To sing with them, and to lift his voice with the 
horde of the Common Men — 

This is the prayer the monarch prays, again, 
again, and again ! 

Out in the heart of the golden Spring I know 

where banners wave 
More bright than the pennons that are mine own, 

more beautiful and brave. 

Crown me with freedom of the hills, and place 

upon my lip 
A song of the honest brotherhood and the noble 

fellowship ! 

[20] 



AND OTHER POEMS 

Make me the equal of other men ! O let it not be 

said 
No humble heart may walk with me the foolish 

height I tread ! 

Let me out where the teeming flood pours toward 
Life's open sea, 

And let me walk the way of man with all hu- 
manity. 

Bitter the heart that beats in my breast when I 

hear the clamor of life, 
And know that the world so far from me gives 

me no part in its strife. 

They prate the joy of rulers; yea, they cry the 

glory of kings. 
But few may know what loneliness about a great 

throne clings. 

Sadly I reign in my palace place, and none may 

understand 
How much I crave the world's turmoil and the 

clasp of a comrade's hand. 

/ am the king of a wide domain, and you deem it 

a zvonderful thing; 
But the kingly height is a terrible height — God 

pity the lonely king! 

[21] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



A ROSE WHISPERS 

I AM the flower within her garden-close 
She cast aside; 
Ah ! had she plucked me, verily, God knows 
I had not died. 

I would have fought a battle with strong Death, 

And bloomed anew, 
Finding sweet resurrection in her breath 

The long day through ; 

And had she laid me on her trembling heart, 

New fire had sprung 
Into my crimson petals' every part. 

And made me young. 

Yea, I for her had lived again ; but O, 

She passed me by, 
And now, neglected, in the night I go 

Softly— to die ! 



[22] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



AWAITED 

ALTHOUGH I dare to say 
My heart untarnished is from day to day, 
'Tis not, O Love, that any strength of mine 
Has kept all white the shrine. 

But as. I now look back 
Across the years that span the weary track. 
All the dear deeds I ever strove to do 
Were done because of you. 

Ail the white thoughts I had 
Were but pure flowers, one day to make you glad ; 
Every improving act, each little grace, 
Humbly, dear one, I trace 

Back to my hope of you, 
Long, long before your wondrous face I knew. 
Ah ! your white coming, silent and unseen, 
Made me and kept me clean ! 



[23] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



A BALLAD OF THE NATIVITY 

NOW it was Mary dreamed this dream, 
Ere yet her Child was born 
In that poor place in Bethlehem, 

In that poor stall forlorn, 
Before the dark of night had fled 
From the white face of morn. 

She fell asleep, and dreamed this dream, 
That filled her heart with fear — 

That she had died that One might live 
Whose life was very dear. 

And that she never saw His face 
Or dried His earliest tear. 

She dreamed that her own life went out — 

Her life divinely sweet — 
Ere she could press His little hands 

Or kiss His little feet. 
Or know the bliss that was to make 

Her womanhood complete. 

She dreamed she died before she knew 

The trembling joy to say, 
*T am a mother — I, whose life 

So bleak was yesterday ! 
I know at last that perfect hour 

For which all women pray \" 

[24] 



AND OTHER POEMS 

O strangely came this dream to her, 

This dream of utter woe, 
While through the dark Judean night, 

Above the wastes of snow, 
A star flamed in the midnight heaven 

And set the East aglow. 

And ere the pallid dawn had come 

To break her sacred rest. 
She wakened, with a startled moan. 

And tears the bitterest. 
And lo ! she felt two little hands 

Clasped close upon her breast! 



[25] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



UNDERSTANDING 

FLASH of steel and crash of drum- 
Love that way has never come. 
But adown some quiet night 
She has winged her silent flight, 
And no heart but failed to hear 
Her soft presence drawing near. 

Boom of guns in long array — 
Love has never gone that way. 
But with quiet step and slow, 
Hand upon her pale lips — so 
Love goes out in some white dawn— - 
O we know when she has gone! , 



[26] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



THE DEPTH OF LOVE 

BECAUSE he brought no tears to her dear 
grave, 
Many and many there were 
Who whispered, when no single sign he gave, 
"He never cared for her." 

But down within the silence of his soul 

A surging ocean swept ; 
Yet none could see the current onward roll, 

The tides that never slept. 

Because I stand in silence when your eyes 

Look softly into mine ; 
Because no words to my poor lips arise, 

Because I give no sign; 

There are, perchance, those who would dare to 
say 

There is no heart in me. 
Beloved, let them cry ! Be glad that they 

Can never sound our sea. 



[27] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



UNANSWERED 

HOW shall I know her, God, in that great 
world, 
After the grief of this is past and gone? 
How shall I know her when our souls are hurled 
Like atoms thro' the night ? On that white dawn 
How shall I know it is her face that I shall look 
upon? 

Wan spirits, we shall journey thro' Thy land, 
The mist-like wraiths of what we used to be ; 

O shall I know the pressure of her hand. 
And shall I recognize her call to me, 
As I do now? Is love the same thro' all eter- 
nity ? 

How shall I know her, God ? I ask but this, 

To be assured — a child who is dismayed. 
Let me be told that I shall feel her kiss. 

. . . There is no answer! Lo ! my faith is 

weighed. 
Ah ! somehow I shall know her, God. Hush ! 
Love is not afraid ! 



[28] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



SURRENDER 

SO hard I strove to crowd you from my heart, 
You who once loved, but love me now no 
more; 
Yet all the weary night your face would start 
Out of the blackness and the midnight's door. 
And smile — to mock me ! — as it did of yore. 

Why is it that your name is on my tongue 
When the gray dawn first creeps across the 
hill? 

Why is it, ere the lark his song has sung. 
Your voice is in my brain, and singing still 
The old, old love that taunts my weakened will ? 

There is no shore that can resist the sea ! 

O I have striven to forget, in vain ; 
So give me now the olden memory, 

Come, if you will, through distance and bleak 
rain; 

Come, if you will, although you bring me pain ! 



[29] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



RAIN ON THE ROOF 

LOUD on my roof the regiments of rain 
March with their old insistence, and I hear 
Troop after troop, cokimn and troop again. 

Sweep by before Dawn's shining hosts appear. 

O armies of the night, your rhythmic tramp 
Lures me at last to the dim bourne of Sleep, 

And you and I find peace in some far camp 
Where only Silence and her legions creep. 



[30] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



THE HOUSE OF THE HEART 

I HAVE made empty all my heart for you ! 
I have shut out the mad noise of the world, 
Closed every window, made the doors fast, too ; 
And from each chamber to the winds have 
hurled 
Old thoughts, old base desires, old sins, old 

stains ; 
Yea, swept my heart as all the earth is swept by 
April rains. 

Down the long corridors there is no sound ! 

I wait but for your entrance through the door, 
Your footfall in my heart's great vacant ground. 

Your voice to sing and sing forevermore — 
Your voice alone to make the old house thrill 
With the vast knowledge that your love wakes all 
that once was still ! 

There shall be gladness when you come to me ! 
Your thoughts, not mine, shall enter in this 
place. 
O Love ! behold how white each room shall be. 
And you shall make all whiter of your grace ! 
Come to this quiet house, this heart of mine — 
It is no longer part of me, but all is thine, is 
thine ! 

[31] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



REMOTE 

SOMEWHERE, perchance, there is a love 
That one day I may gain ; 
But O, it is so very far. 

Through darkness and the rain ! 

And yet more distant than the dream 

Of joy that still may be 
Is that old love gone softly down 

The aisles of Memory ! 



[32] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



THE GLADNESS OF SPRING 

WHEN Spring, with blossom-haunted lanes, 
With sudden gusts of rippling rains, 
Came dancing down the glad young year, 
How soon my heart forgot its fear ! 

When I had heard the lyric note 
Tliat floated from the robin's throat. 
How soon the sad song in my breast 
Sought a deep silence, a deep rest ! 

Now who had dreamed the April rain 
Could cleanse a heart of all its pain? 
And who had thought one little bird 
Could hush a soul's discordant word? 



[33] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



A SUNSET 

FAR in the gold-embroidered west 
Tlie round and red sun lay, 
Like a great wound upon the breast 
Of the slow-dying day. 

Night, and a murmur from the east ; 

I heard the wind's voice roll 
Out of the dark, a solemn priest, 

Speeding the day's white soul. 



[34] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



ESTRANGEMENT 

IT was so hard to say good-bye. 
To drift apart from you ; 
But harder still to live the lie 

That swept the long years through. 

O better far it were that we 

Down different paths should stray ; 

Better that we should part than be 
So close, yet far away I 



[35] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



DEATH AT MORNING 

SHE died when dawn was sweeping o'er the 
land, 
When morning-glories lit the gleaming wall; 
And one who watched her, holding her pale hand, 
Whispered, "Alas ! that she should miss it all !" 

The early sun, risen from his dark night. 

Flamed his great banners when she went away ; 

And one said, "Lo ! at coming of the light 
She has gone forth, and lost the beauteous 
day." 

But she, from her poor mortal house of pain 
Gladly released, went singing to God's place, 

And cried, "Dear Lord, after the bleak world- 
rain, 
I cannot bear the brightness of Thy face!" 



[36] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



RENEWAL 

APRIL, when I heard 
Your lyrical low word, 
And when upon the hawthorn hedge your first 
white blossoms stirred, 

Something strangely came — 
Something I cannot name — 
And touched my heart, and cleansed my soul with 
a reviving flame. 

When the yellow gleam 
Of your hosts that stream — 
Jonquil, buttercup, and crocus — made the world 
a golden dream. 

Something, April, said 
To my heart that bled — 

Bled with old remembrance — "Lo! the grief- 
strewn days are fled!" 

Sursum cor da! Now, 
When blooms the apple-bough, 
April, of your pity, let your light rain kiss my 
brow; 



THE QUIET SINGER 

Heal me, if you will ; 
Bathe my heart until 

I am one with your first primrose or the shining 
daffodil! 



[38] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



A MAN'S PRAYER 

I DO not crave that deathless fame 
That is the vahant soldier's part; 
I only wish to write my name 
Witliin a woman's heart; 

To make my love so perfect seem 

The world shall say, my glad days through, 
"That life he lived — it was a dream 

Too wondrous to be true !" 



[39] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



A SONG OF CITY TRAFFIC 

I HAVE heard the roar and clamor through the 
city's crowded ways 
Of the never-ending pageant moving down the 

busy days — 
Coaches, wagons, hearses, engines, clanging cars, 
and thundering drays ! 

I have watched them moving past me as the day 

began to dawn; 
I have watched them creeping onward when the 

sun's last light was gone, 
Like a serpent long and sinuous, gliding on, and 

on, and on. 

Never, since I can remember, has this long pro- 
cession ceased; 

Rather has the surging torrent ever lengthened 
and increased, 

And the human traffic changed not — prince and 
beggar, fool and priest. 

They have marched, and still are marching, 
through the city's wilderness — 

O the sadness of their going who shall know or 
who shall guess? 

[40] 



AND OTHER POEMS 

Prophet, lady, sage, and merchant, cap-and-bells 
in wisdom's dress ! 

Ah ! poor throngs of the great city, drops within 

that mighty stream, 
When the night descends upon you and the streets 

are all agleam. 
Of some distant hills of silence do your worn 

hearts never dream ? 

When the brazen voice of traffic and the loud call 

of the mart 
Strangle all the hope within you, bruise your soul 

and break your heart, 
Do you think of some far valley where life plays 

another part? 

Sometimes in your startled slumbers, ere the morn 

comes up again, 
Do you dream of some blue mountain or some 

wonderful green glen, 
Where the silver voice of silence calls the weary 

world of men ? 

O perhaps you dream, as I do, of the quiet wood- 
land ways; 

But the long procession lures you through the 
fleeting nights and days. 

And you miss the old, old beauty for which still 
your spirit prays; 

[41] 



THE QUIET SINGER 

Miss it all, and, missing, weep not ; join once more 

the bands of trade, 
Join again the city's tumult, that long clamoring 

parade — 
Join once more the foolish struggle which not 

God, but man, has made ! 

Losing love and losing friendship, making Hfe 

but wounds and scars; 
Missing beauty and calm rapture, and the shelter 

of the stars — 
Poor, sad mortals, hearing only noise of wheels 

and clang of cars ! 



[42] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



SELFISHNESS 

THERE is so much that you can give to me — 
I camiot bring you anything at all, 
Save worship and the little, tender words 
My lips let fall. 

But you — oh, you can feed my hungry heart, 
And you can fill my chalice soul with wine, 

Till I grow drunk with drinking, marvelling 
At love like thine. 

How selfishly I come to beg all this, 

I who can give you nothing, dear, at all, 

Save worship and the little, grateful words 
My lips let fall. 



[43] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



REMEMBRANCE 

LOVE was with me yesterday- 
In the dusk she crept away ; 
But I am Hght-hearted yet, 
Since I never can forget. 

All the world may marvel why 
Joyful with great joy am I ; 
None may know who cannot say, 
''Love was with me yesterday !" 



[44] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



AERE PERENNIUS 

AS long as the stars of God 
Hang steadfast in the sky, 
And the blossoms 'neath the sod 

Awake when Spring is nigh ; 
As long as the nightingale 

Sings love-songs to the rose, 
And the Winter wind in the vale 

Makes moan o'er the virgin snows — 
As long as these things be 
I would tell my love for thee ! 

As long as the rose of June 

Bursts forth in crimson fire, 
And the mellov/ harvest-moon 

Shines over hill and spire ; 
As long as heaven's dew 

At morning kisses the sod ; 
As long as you are you, 

And I know that God is God — 
As long as these things be 
I would tell my love for thee ! 



[45] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



THE GREAT AND SILENT THINGS 

HOW silently the years, in long procession, 
Come gliding down the corridors of Time 
to us! 
O quietly they come and take possession 
Of our dear youth, and weigh us with oppression ; 
How great they seem, and how sublime to us ! 

How softly Love into the heart comes creeping ! 

How wonderfully low is her command to us ! 
She wakes the soul that erstwhile lay a-sleeping, 
She dries the eyes that were but lately weeping, 

Revealing all her Promised Land to us. 

And Death ! O with a velvet tread she finds us. 
And teaches us her awful lore and mystery ; 

Like sheaves of wheat are we what time she binds 
us, 

And in a little sheet of w^hiteness winds us — 
And this is all of our poor history ! 

O we who loudly cry our names in chorus 

Across the mighty years, shall sooner, later, 
Go humbly back upon the tide that bore us 
To this brief life, as men have gone before us, 
Softly to God, silent to our Creator ! 

[46] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



DISTANCES 

1HAD a friend who went away 
Over the distant sea, 
But hill and tide can never hide 
His gentle face from me. 

I had a friend — he broke my heart, 

Yet every shining day 
We meet, but nevermore clasp hands. 

How far he is away ! 



[4?] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



HAUNTED 

THERE came a whisper in the night, 
A little cry across the years ; 
And I who heard, in deep affright, 
Awakened with unnumbered fears. 

"It is some deed that I have done, 
Some sin I wrought long, long ago ; 

But hush ! am I the only one ? 

Wherefore am I then troubled so? 

"For all men do some evil deed, 

And some men falter, some men fall; 

Do ghosts of Selfishness and Greed 

Come back, O God, to haunt them all?" 

Then came a whisper in the night, 

A little cry across the years ; 
And I who heard, in deep affright. 

Listened with wild, unnumbered fears. 

"/ am the ghost of that pure deed 
You might have done, hut did not do; 

I am the ghost of that good seed 

You might have sown when Life was new. 

[48] 



AND OTHER POEMS 

"And this it is that haunts you now. 
That deed undone, that seed unsown; 

Too late, too late to take the plough, 
The Spring is fled, the May is flown !" 

And this I heard amid the night, 

This voice that called across the years, 

And when the dawn came, silver-white, 
I was companioned with my tears. 



[49] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



VILLANELLE 

THE lilies whisper in the park, 
Pale watchers in the heavy night. 
Wan ghosts that haunt the fragrant dark. 

How pure they are ! Their figures stark 

Stand as if waiting for Death's flight — 
The lilies whisper in the park. 

Beneath the blue electric arc 

They crowd in long battalions bright, 
Wan ghosts that haunt the fragrant dark. 

I lean and listen, wait and hark ; 

Faint phrases float on pinions light — 
The lilies whisper in the park. 

The city sleeps. I pause to mark 

These spirits marshaled for my sight, 
Wan ghosts that haunt the fragrant dark. 

Who knows the language of the lark? 

Who gleans one word from flowers white ? 
The lilies whisper in the park, 
Wan ghosts that haunt the fragrant dark. 



[so] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



I COUNT THE DAYS 

I COUNT the days, beloved ; but not those 
When you are absent, though my heart well 
knows 
That they are bleak indeed. Rather I say 
Unselfishly, as drifts each laggard day, 
*'Long, long ago, in Love's eternal Spring, 
We sang together, and new hours can bring 
No greater rapture." I am ever glad 
Of those lost hours of beauty that we had; 
And if within my heart I always hold 
The memory of their shining threads of gold, 
I fear not when you tread far-distant ways. . . . 
O Love, our wondrous past ! I count the days ! 



[51] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



FULFILMENT 

THIS was my dream in May — to have one 
bloom, 
Fragrant with apple-scent and Springtide rain, 
Live thro' the bleakness of the Autumn gloom. 
Awakening all beauty in my room, 

Hidmg the dismal hills, quenching dull pain. 

This was my dream in youth — to have you near 

When the dark hours of age had crept on me ; 
To have you at my side when twilight drear 
Told that the light of day would disappear ; 
To have you love me, O unswervingly! 

These dreams were mine ! . . . Dear heart, the 
night is nigh, 

No single flow'r blooms thro' November chill, 
And you are vanished, lost — ah ! who knows why ? 
But hush ! Far, far within the vaulted sky, 

One golden bud — a star — smiles o'er the hill ! 



[52] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



RESURRECTION 

WHEN one had gone away 
To join the quiet dead, 
Bleak, bleak for me the day, 

And dark the clouds overhead. 
"Her voice I shall not hear again, 
Nor see her smile/' I said. 

Yet when the Spring winds came 
The sad earth to beguile, 

I heard one call my name 

Whose voice was lost erewhile ; 

And when the early violets blew. 
Dear God, I saw her smile ! 



[53] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



TILL EULENSPIEGEL 

EULENSPIEGEL, merry lad, 
What a laughing life you had ! 
Prank and jest were yours by right 
Or at noontide or at night, 
And the simple tricks you played 
On the spinster and the jade 
Only helped sad hearts to be 
Lighter through felicity. 

If you knocked upon the door 
Of a house you'd missed before, 
How the little home would wake, 
Laughing for your laughter's sake! 
Never since Time was begun 
Has Life frowned on harmless fun; 
Never has there been a day 
Filled too full of foolish play. 

Let the somber folk and dense 
Laugh at your young innocence; 
Tricks that they have never guessed 
(Many a little quip and jest) 

[54] 



AND OTHER POEMS 

Play upon them till they take 
Long, long leave of grieving. Make 
Plots and plans of such.design 
As will cause old eyes to shine. 

Trip your way into my heart, 
Eulenspiegel ! Let me part 
With the sorrow and the tears 
That are marching down the yea^s. 
Play your pranks with all of us, 
In that way felicitous, 
Till the darkness of our night 
Blooms with laughter and delight. 



[55] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



THE POET 

BACK of his splendid song, O think of the 
songs unsung! 
Back of his painted dreams, the dreams that he 
never reveals ! 
Behind each lyric of rapture 
The songs that he cannot capture, 
Save for his own delight, to keep his heart still 
young ! 

But the songs that he never can sing — 

Children created of one glad song that tells us 
what he feels — 
Some day they shall be uttered, 
When far his soul has fluttered. 
Sung by an unborn singer in a new and wonder- 
ful Spring! 



[56] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



THE FLAME 

OMOTH, that yearns for me, 
The whole world pities thee, 
Foredoomed on heedless wing, 
By mad fire-worshipping. 

But sadder is my fate, 
Who, when the night is late, 
See thee in love come nigh. 
At my caress to die ! 

When I would lend thee aid, 
To death thou art betrayed ; 
Yea, I that love thee well, 
I am thy heaven and hell ! 



[57] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



IN THE MEADOWS OF THE SKY 

WHEN the great sower, Night, 
Lets down his sable bars, 
He goes into his endless fields 
To plant his seed, the stars. 

And then the wintry Dawn 

Comes with her icy hand. 
And blights with snowy clouds the flowers 

In that wide, heavenly land. 



[S8] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



THE MOSQUES 

THERE was a flower in ancient Fez 
That (so the glowing legend says) 
Has never lost its matchless light 
From Summer dawn to Winter night, 
Since Allah cast his pitying glance 
Upon the city's wide expanse, 
And, with all mercy in his eye. 
Said, "One white flower shall never die." 

So from the city's forest maze 

Pure alabaster domes upraise 

Their gleaming beauty through the dawn, 

Or when the dusk of day is gone ; 

White flowers that blossom through the years, 

And hush a people's solemn fears, 

Pale blooms of wonder that shall last 

Till Time, and Life, and Death are past. 



[59] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



T 



THE WOMAN'S WAY 
HERE are things, I know, that are sad and 



As the world swings round in the old-time way ; 
O Life is the same, though the seasons change, 

And laughter and tears make our little day. 
But one sad thing is the saddest of all, 

Filling women's hearts with old regrets — - 
They take their love as a gift from above — ' 

A woman remembers, a man — forgets ! 

You may say what you will, a woman's heart 

Counts ail as loss till she loves and lives 
In the golden hours that seem to start 

A new white world ; and she always gives 
All that she has, or dreams, or knows — 

All that she feels — and she never regrets. 
She gives her all, yet her meed is small — 

A woman remembers, a man — forgets ! 

Men love to-day — and laugh to-night, 

Forgetting a heart may break the while; 

A woman loves in her strength and might, 
A man forgets — at another smile ! 

[60] 



AND OTHER POEMS 

And the sad, mad world turns swiftly round, 
And thus shall it be till the last sun sets; 

A woman takes love as a gift from above— 
A woman remembers, a man— forgets ! 



[6i] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



IN THE NIGHT 

I HEARD the footfall of the hail; 
1 The armies of the sky 
Were coming down amid the gale, 
And rank on rank marched by. 

I heard the thunder's cannonade, 

The beating of his drum ; 
I saw the lightning's flashing blade — 

The hosts of heaven had come ! 

The mighty legions crossed the roofs 
And stormed the distant hill ; 

Faint grew the sound of tramping hoofs, 
And lo! then all was still. 

At morn I saw dead crimson leaves 
Far o'er the wide world tossed ; 

And now the lonely Autumn grieves 
For all that she has lost. 



[62] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



HOPE 

THE weariest watch must sometime end, 
The dreariest Winter must one day close. 
And under the cover that wraps the earth 
Sleeps the Summer rose. 

Did the Spring e'er fail of its mission sweet, 
After the rush of the Northern snows ? 

Then why should we care, since under the earth 
Sleeps the Summer rose? 



[63] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



w 



LOVE OF BEAUTY 

HO loves all beauty loves beyond that we 
see; 

The gods give him a vision doubly blest ; 
He sees the bloom upon the hawthorn-tree, 

But blossoms, too, that are not quite expressed. 

He hears the music in the lyric rain, 

The lark's enraptured notes that wake the 
dawn; 
But far behind them one diviner strain 

That is not uttered till the first is gone. 



[64] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



THE PROCESSION 

THE gray year drifted out 
As a tired love might go, 
And there was no heart to breathe a song 

Across the leagues of snow. 
O the gray, sad year went out, went out, 
And who was there to know? 

The glad new year came in 

As a white young love might come, 

And through all the world I heard the sound 
Of welcoming bell and drum. 

O the glad new year came in, came in, 
And hearts with joy grew dumb. 

But the new year shall go out 

As the old year went its way; 
And the young love must grow very old, 

Yea, old and wan and gray ; 
And thus shall it be till Time and Love 

Die on a Winter's day. 



[65] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



LOVE AND TIME 

I SAID, "Love laughs at Time," before I knew 
The perfect joy of wholly loving you ; 
So swift the days went hurrying to that Day 
When we were one — Love swept us on the way. 

But now — Time laughs at Love; for swifter yet 
Speed years that seem as hours ! The sun will 

set. 
The final curtain fall, our lives be done ; 
We will have lived — long years that seemed as 

one! 



[66] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



AN AUTUMN LEAF 

UPON my parchment, sadly old, 
The record lives of Summer's gold; 
And in my veins there lingers now 
The joy of Spring's awakening bough. 

So I, like many a human heart 
Wherefrom Life's shining days depart, 
Keep valiantly some remnant yet 
Of dreams we never quite forget. 



[67] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



ONE MOMENT OF DOUBT 

SUPPOSE you should forget, 
After our love and tears, 
To wait for me in that shining place 
That lies behind the years ! 

Suppose I should forget. 

After my lips are dumb, 
To go to you, O heart of my heart — 

Suppose I should not come! 

Never yet was a soul, 

The past remembering, 
But who, one moment in the dark. 

Doubted the coming Spring. 

And never yet was one 

Who on this earth has trod, 

But for one instant told his heart 
He doubted even God! 

Wherefore then blame me. Love, 
That, mortal that I be, 

I stand one moment, lost, dismayed- 
Then face eternity? 



[68] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



PARTING 

LEAVE me some fragment of our love, 
Some remnant of our bliss, 
That I may drink the joy thereof 
Through days more bleak than this. 

When Summer fares forth on the wind, 

Do all her blossoms go? 
Nay ! Some white flower she leaves behind 

To still the Autumn's woe; 

And all her dear remembered grace 

Lives on, because of this ; 
So of our love leave me one trace — 

One last and deathless kiss ! 



[69] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



THE ROOM 

NOW that my heart is empty, 
Empty of you, 
I marvel at the fullness 
That once it knew. 

How deep the space now vacant, 

How vast and wide ! 
Or is it only greater 

Since Love has died? 



[70] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



AFTER DROUGHT 

THERE came an army from the sky, 
And surged across the parched plain ; 
I saw the hurrying hosts go by — 
The blue battalions of the rain. 

O mighty army (bringing peace!) 

How bright your helmets seemed to shine! 
Your cavalcades brought glad release, 

For God was Captain of the line ! 



[71] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



INDIAN SUMMER 

WHEN Eve grew old, 
How many a time she must have dreamed 
and dreamed 
Of her lost Eden, with gardens all of gold, 
And Springtide winds that whispered low, and 
streamed 
Quietly through the dim, hushed afternoon ; 
And, gray and sad, wept for her vanished June, 
Until some thought of her lost Paradise 
Lighted her old, old eyes ! 

So now the Year, 

Banished from her young Joy and fragrant 
hours. 
Grown feeble with much longing, sad and sere, 

Dreams once again of gardens white with flow- 
ers; 
And as she turns to brood upon the past. 
Weary, autumnal now, and old at last. 
Upon her face there shines the golden glow 
Of June, lost long ago. 



[72] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



AT NIGHTFALL 

1NEED so much the quiet of your love, 
After the day's loud strife; 
I need your calm all other things above, 
After the stress of life. 

I crave the haven that in your dear heart lies. 

After all toil is done ; 
I need the starshine of your heavenly eyes, 

After the day's great sun! 



[73] 



QUATRAINS 



[75] 



PREPARATION 

HOW long the violets 'neath the snow 
Toiled ere they breathed the Spring! 
How long the poet dreamed his song 
Before his heart could sing ! 



1771 



THE QUIET SINGER 



CERTAINTY 

SHE knew that Love was dying — ^not so much 
When Love's dear eyes were closed and 
blind to her, 
As when, with patient word and tender touch, 
Love, day by day, alas ! grew kind to her ! 



[78] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



THE FRIENDS 

SHARE not thy joy with me, O friend the best, 
Thou may'st forget me then — I shall not 
care ; 
But shut me from thy grief the bitterest, 
And mine own grief would be too great to bear. 



[79] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



A WINTER DREAM 

THE host of flakes that float thro' leafless trees 
When pale December reigns in Autumn's 
stead, 
Are but the pallid ghosts of myriad bees, 
Come back to woo the roses that are dead. 



[80] 



AND OTHER POEMS. 



SEPTEMBER 

NOW at the grave of Summer stands 
A priest, in purple vestments stoled, 
And through the hills, his lifted hands, 
There runs a rosary of gold. 



[8i] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



THE GOOD QUEEN 

PALE ruler of the heavens, with lavish hand, 
The spendthrift Moon arose, 
And spilt her silver out across the land, 
Alike on friends and foes. 



[82] 



AND OTHER POEMS. 



UNHAPPINESS 

HIGH on the hills the miser, Autumn, sits, 
Hoarding his wondrous wealth of treas- 
ured gold ; 
Yet in the night I hear his grieving voice 
In every wind that sweeps across the wold. 



[83] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



CARE 

SHE leaves upon our brows her written sign, 
Where all may read, inscribed with perfect 
art; 
But O those marks the world may not divine — 
Her hidden tracings on the human heart! 



[84] 



SONNETS 



rss] 



THE PROMISE 

SHE said to him, "Unless, when I am dead, 
From out the green sod of my lowly grave 
A crimson rose should rise and softly wave, 
Whispering words like those my poor heart said ; 
Unless this token of a passion fled 

Should come to tell you all that you may crave, 
Then you shall know I loved you not! Be 
brave ! 
That rose shall bloom, and you be comforted." 

But when she died, not only in the Spring, 
When violets wake, and in the deeps of June, 
Her lover saw a red rose lightly blow ; 
Not only did the golden Summer bring 

Gifts for his heart, but 'neath the Winter moon 
A passion-flower trembled thro' the snow i 



[87] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



CITY CHILDREN 

PALE flowers are you, that scarce have known 
the sun ! 
Your httle faces Hke sad blossoms seem, 
Shut in some room, there helplessly to dream 
Of distant glens wherethrough glad rivers run 
And winds at evening whisper. Daylight done, 
You miss the tranquil moon's unfettered beam. 
The wide, unsheltered earth, the starlight 
gleam. 
All the old beauty meant for every one. 

The clamor of the city streets you hear, 
Not the rich silence of the April glade ; 
The sun-swept spaces which the good God 
made 
You do not know ; white mornings keen and clear 
Are not your portion through the golden year, 
O little flowers that blossom but to fade ! 



[88] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



AFTER READING KEATS 

DOWN his great corridors of sumptuous 
sound 
To-day I wandered once again. Each word 
Seemed Hke the lyric rapture of a bird 
Singing in Spring above the burgeoning ground. 
O once again that old delight I found, 

Once more the marvel of his voice I heard, 
Until my spirit with new joy was stirred. 
Hearing such music through his halls resound. 

How beautiful thy palace, Poet blest! — 
That room wherein is set thy Grecian Urn, 
Thy Nightingale that sings at set of sun 
Out in thy garden where my tired feet turn ; 
And in one chamber, back from his long quest, 
That passionate lover, young Endymion ! 



[89] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



HOW BRAVELY NOW I FACE THE 
MARCHING DAYS 

HOW bravely now I face the marching days, 
With Youth's strong armor to defy the 
years ! 
Nought now I know of the sharp sting of tears, 
Nor of the bleak and soHtary ways 
Where Sorrow calls her children. Nought dis- 
mays 
My April spirit ; and the night appears 
Like some far-distant prospect without fears. 
Youth, youth is mine, and youth's strong, fear- 
less gaze. 

But when the twilight shall at length abide. 
And I have neared the shadowy bourne and 

vast. 
How will it be ? . . . Shall the night overcast 
My soul, and shall my sword have softly sighed 
Back to its scabbard ? . . . Nay, when Youth has 
died. 
Old Age shall take me tenderly at last. 



[90] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



A BROKEN FRIENDSHIP 

IF this be friendship — that one broken hour 
(O fragile Hnk in all the loving years !) 
Can cast our hearts asunder, Time rppears 
Frightful indeed, since all our vaunted power, 
Wherewith we built high hope, like some strong 
tower. 
Crumbles to dust, where earthly passion leers. 
What of our laughter? Aye, what of our tears 
That should have only watered Friendship's 
flower ? 

If this be friendship, I can never know 
Again the magic faith I boasted of ; 
One deed of mine has crushed the house of 
love. 

And every stone to its old place must go. 
Shame be to our endurance if we killed 
The sinews that can help us to rebuild! 



[91] 



SONGS OF NEW YORK 



[93] 



FIFTH AVENUE AT NIGHT 

LIKE moonstones drooping from a fair queen's 
ears 
The pale lights seem— 
White gems that shimmer when the dark appears 
And the old dream — 

The ancient dream that comes with every night 

Through the long street — 
The quiet and the shadows, and the light 

Tread of far feet. 



[95] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



BROADWAY 

HERE surge the ceaseless caravans, 
Here throbs the city's heart, 
And down the street each takes his way 
To play his little part. 

The tides of life flow on, flow on, 
And Laughter meets Despair; 

A heart might break along Broadway. . , 
I wonder who would care ? 



[96] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



DOWNTOWN 

THE sun has gone, and from the ferryboat 
That Hke a golden worm crawls through the 
night, 
I watch the myriad stars that round me float, 
And, cityward, the honeycombs of light. 

Tier after tier, they blossom in the dark, 

Miraculously radiant, while I 
Think of the toilers bent beneath each spark, 

And breathe a little prayer for them, and sigh. 



[97] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



NEW BUILDINGS 

THE turrets leap higher and higher, 
And the Httle old homes go down ; 
The workmen pound on the iron and steel- 
The woodpeckers of the town. 



[98] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



THE LIGHTS 

TEN thousand jewels flash out 
When the darkness of night appears; 
But O I sometimes think these pearls 
Are ten thousand people's tears — 

Ten thousand tears that are shed 

Through the terrible strife of the day, 

And doomed to shine through the city's night 
Till the stars have faded away. 



[99] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



TO A HURDY-GURDY 

{Playing on Sixth Avenue) 

HERE'S to you, brave Hurdy-gurdy, 
Grinding out your happy tune 
While the traffic round you rumbles, 
In the city's Summer noon. 

No one hears you ! Yet the rapture 
That you feel, despite our faults, 

As you gaily give the measure 
Of the latest merry waltz ! 

Trams are rolling all about you — 

How the Elevated roars! 
And above their noise and tumult 

Your thin twanging vainly soars. 

Good for you, poor Hurdy-gurdy! 

Play, unheard, your little part; 
Would that I could sing as you do, 

With but half as brave a heart ! 



[lOO] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



TRAFFIC 

HOOF-BEATS thundering on the paves, 
Wagons crashing by. 
(But O I dream of distant waves, 
God's tent of open sky!) 

Bells that clamor all day long, 

Rush and roar of steam. 
(But I have heard a robin's song. 

If only in my dream !) 



[lOl] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



THE VOICES 

I HEARD the voice of the city, 
CalHng again and again, 
And into her arms there hastened 
Millions and millions of men. 

And I heard the voice of old gardens, 

Of quiet woodland ways; 
But few there were who would heed them 

In the rush of the busy days. 

The cities grow old and vanish, 
And their people faint and die ; 

But the gardens are green forever, 
Forever blue is the sky ! 



[102] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



NEXT DOOR 

WE saw the tapers burn 
In the home so close to ours ; 
But however our hearts might yearn, 

We dared not send our flowers. 
"He will not understand," we said, 
*'Our loving thought of his loved dead." 

O City ! thus you hide 

The pity in every heart! 
Those who are at our side 

You sunder a world apart. 
A little barrier built of stone — 
And my neighbor grieves — alone, alone ! 



[103] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



THE PARKS 

THERE are green islands in the city sea, 
Where all day long, the endless, passionate 
waves 
Beat, yet destroy not ; and their quiet saves 
How many a heart grown sick with memory ! 

Not derelicts alone are foundered there, 

But children with the laughter of the May — 
Bright, living flowers — in these glad gardens 
play, 

Knowing, yet knowing not, the town's despair ! 

God made the ocean, where tumultuously 

The loud storms burst ; and Babylon He made ; 
Yet all the hills are His, dim valley and glade — 

There are green islands in the city sea. 



[104] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



A CITY SUNSET 

ACROSS the roof-tops of the town 
I saw the flaming sun go down ; 
For some, another day of tears 
Lay buried in the hurrying years. 

The shadows folded ; here and there 
A yellow light began to flare. 
For some, another golden day 
Of gladness sped upon its way. 



[105] 



SONGS OUT OF THE ORIENT 



[107] 



A BAGHDAD LOVER 

(Being Certain Fragments from Scheherazade's 
Songs in ''The Thousand and One Nights") 

(To George H. Casamajor) 

I 

O QUEEN of Beauty, who hast conquered 
kings, 
O woman wonderful, in pity be 
Most merciful to one who softly sings 
Thy matchless glory ; yea, to one who brings 
His broken songs, sung but in praise of thee. 

I am the prisoner of thy two eyes ! 

Roses nor lilies breathe a sweeter breath 
Than thou, when Dawn's great minarets arise. 
Thy breath is like a breeze from Paradise, 

Yet languorous with the mystery of Death ! 

The Pleiades, which thro' the darkness blaze, 
From thy great orbs have filched their won- 
drous Hght. 
Only the stars, with their undying rays. 
Shall make a necklace like a golden haze 
To hang about thy throat, O woman white ! 
[109] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



II 



To kiss her ! 'Tis with musk-perfume to grow 
Drunken with joy — delirium to know! 
To feel her body bend 'neath my embrace, 
See the carved marble of her lily face ! 
To kiss her ! I am drunk who have no wine- 
Wild ecstasy, wild ecstasy divine ! 
Dizzy at eve, at sundown my heart sips 
The perfumed nectar of her lips, her lips ! 



[no] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



III 



The praises of her beauty I shall sing, 
Yea, though her beauty be my suffering! 

Lo ! one to me hath come and softly said, 

"O thou who with Love's sorrowing hast bled, 

"Rise ! Here is Life's great music, Life's guitar, 
Luring thy soul to some exquisite star !" 

And I have said, "How can my poor heart sing, 
Since I have felt Love's sharp and ceaseless 
sting?" 



[Ill] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



IV 



If one should ask of me, when all afire 

My ravished heart might be, 
''What is thy wish, thine utmost dear desire — 

One draught from some cool spring to drain, 
or her white face to see ?" — 
I should make answer, tho' I fainted sore, 

Tho' my pale lips were dry, 
"Let me behold her, ere I pass the Door ; 

Let me drink of her pool-deep eyes — drink love, 
drink love — and die !" 



[112] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



So much I love, that I 

Faint with the joy I know; 

Yea, for that joy is pierced 
With the great thorn of woe ! 

So much I love, that I 
Envy the cup she sips, 

When over-long it rests 
On her soft, crimson lips ! 



[113] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



vr 



What morn shall find thee, O departed one, 

Under the fragrant dew ? 
Thou hast appeared, O gentle-hearted one. 

Back to my famished view. 
Clad in white vestments, thou who hast been ban- 
ished 

Out of this lonely place, 
I saw thee once at dusk. . . . Now thou hast 
vanished, 

And left, alas ! no trace ! 



[114] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



VII 

The myrtles of Damascus, when they smile, 
Exalt my soul to some remote, high place — ■ 
But O thy face ! 

Roses of Baghdad, bathed in moonlight dew, 
Make my heart drunk when all their joy it 

sips — 
But O thy lips ! 



[115] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



VIII 

O form to which the palms have lent their grace, 
And all the jasmines given their perfume, 
What lovelier form goes wandering thro' 
earth's room? 

O eyes to which the diamond lends its light, 

And night its radiant stars, 
What woman's eyes give forth a fire more bright ? 

O kiss more sweet than honey from her mouth, 
What woman's kiss is fresher from the South ? 

O to caress thy hair ! to feel my heart 

Thrill against thine ! . . . Then to gaze in thine 

eyes, 
And see the stars arise! 



[ii6] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



IX 



O tomb! within thy shadows can it be 
My dear beloved hides away from me? 

tomb, by Allah, tell me, lest I die, 
Is all her beauty vanished utterly ? 

Have her vast charms been blotted out? — ^her 

white 
And palHd brow been lost in thy deep night? 

Surely, O tomb ! no bit of heaven is thine. 
Who foldest close that wondrous love of mine. 

Yet in thy depths, thy darkened depths, O tomb, 

1 see the stars shine and white lilies bloom ! 



[117] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



FROM A BAGHDAD WINDOW 

(To Richard Duffy) 

I 

LISTEN, O Love, to that far-distant strain, 
The bulbul sings outside the city gate. 
This is the twihght hour, all consecrate. 
When his poor heart with love is full, or 
strangely desolate! 

Harken, O Love ! Is it a note of pain 

That passes down toward sunset's golden bars ? 
Lean close, lean close! Let us forget life's 

scars, 
And watch for night's transcendent train of 

peace-bestowing stars! 



[ii8] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



II 



I shall forget the day's great heat 
When in the night your heart shall beat, 
In rhythmic measure, close to mine, 
And thro' the dark your dear eyes shine ! 

I shall forget the torrid breeze 
That swept all day the tall palm-trees, 
When in the night, the quiet night, 
Your lips meet mine for Love's delight ! 



t"9] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



III 



This is mine hour of jubilation — this, 

When my hot brow grows cool beneath thy kiss ! 

I am the weary desert, thou the dusk, 

Bringing thy peace and soothing scent of musk. 

I am that weary waste which all day long 
Dreamed of thy starshine and thine evensong ! 



[120] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



IV 



Beloved, see, how on yon minarets 
The sun's flames leap and shine; 

And see, how on yon towering parapets 
They glow like crimson wine ! 

O let me be as constant unto thee, 

As steadfast as the sun, 
Dawn after dawn to rise from dreams and be 

Glad that the dark is done ! 



[121] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



What night with all its pageantry, 

Its web of golden dream, 
Has made the heavens appear to me 

Fairer than your eyes seem ? 

What silver of the early dawn 

Has made your throat less white? 

Give me your face to look upon, 
And what of dawn, or night? 



I 122 ] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



VI 



O dome and spire, and mosque and shrine, 

And temples built of gold 
May lift their glory, glint, and shine, 

Till all the years have roiled 
In chaos to that brink of night 
When Allah says the world shall lose its wonder 
and its light. 

But hush ! O my beloved one ! 

For our great love shall last 
Through darkness and the shadowed sun, 

Till Death itself has passed. 
O we shall love, be unafraid, 
When this pale city that we see in paler dust is 
laid I 



[123] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



A LOVER IN DAMASCUS 

(To Amy Woodforde-Finden ) 
I 

FAR, far across the desert sands, 
I hear the camel-bells; 
Merchants have come from alien lands, 
With stuffs, and gems, and silken bands, 
Back where their old love dwells, 

O my beloved, far away 

Are cities by the sea; 
Yet should I go to far Cathay 
For many a weary night and day, 

My dreams were still of thee. 



[124] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



II 



Through the old city's silence, 
Where the Abana flows, 

O harken to the nightingale 
Sing lyrics to the rose! 

But through the dusk no answer 
Is ever breathed or sung, 

Tho' the bird's heart with pleading 
The whole long night is wrung. 

Yet well the lonely songster 
Knows that the red rose hears. 

. . . Ah, Love, I need no answer, 
But let me see your tears ! 



[125] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



III 



Beloved, in your absence I have told 
My love for you to every little flower — 

Vermilion, pink and purple, red and gold — 
That blossoms in our fragrant-hearted bower. 

And should I die ere you come back again, 
Would not the rose my golden vows repeat ? 

Yes, every bloom would whisper through the rain, 
And fling its perfumed message at your feet! 



[126] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



IV 



How many a lonely caravan sets out 
On its long journey o'er the desert, Doubt, 
Yet comes back home laden with ivory, 
With gold, and gums, and scarfs from oversea. 

So went my lonely heart forth on its quest ; 
Through torrid wastes and parched ways it 

pressed. 
Empty and sad it left the city gate. 
But came back with your precious love for 

freight ! 



[127] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



V 



If in the great bazaars 
They sold the golden stars, 
Beloved, there should be 
A necklace strung for thee, 
More wonderful than any known or dreamed of, 
Love, by me. 

If wealth could buy the mist 
By Dawn's pale, pearl lips kissed, 
Beloved, there should be 
A white veil wrought for thee. 
More marvellous than that faint film which hangs 
above the sea. 



[128] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



VI 



Ah ! when the dark on many a heart descends, 

Our joy more swiftly runs ; 
Heart of my heart, our great love never ends, 

Though set ten thousand suns ! 

Allah be with us when that last deep night 

Shall wrap us round about; 
And Love be with us, with her steadfast light, 

When Death our spark blows out! 



[129] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



CERTAIN FRAGMENTS FROM THE" 
ARABIC 



YOU who are wise to-day, 
What of your knowledge when Life's little 
play 
Is ended, and the curtain rustles down — 
What of your wisdom then, your great renown? 

Make me not wise, like you; 

I envy neither sage nor prophet Jew. 

Beggared, each journeyed here, and sought for 

fame, 
And lo ! went forth as poor as when he came ! 



[130] 



AND OTHER POEMS 



II 



I did not know the nightingale could fling 
Into one song the whole wild soul of Spring ; 
I did not know — until I heard him sing. 

I did not know that Love held all of bliss — 
Yea, all that ever was, and all that is ; 
I did not know — until I felt your kiss ! 



[131] 



THE QUIET SINGER 



III 



O in that hour when both of us are dead, 
When all of Life and Love at last is said, 
Will some red rose bloom o'er our graves to tell 
how our hearts bled? 

Or will a lily, in the starlit night, 
Lift its pale wonder and its waxen light. 
To tell the world how our poor hearts loved with 
a love most white ? 



[132] 



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BOOKBINDING 
Crantville, Pa 
Nov-Dec 1988 











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